


the sun who makes me shine

by vowelinthug



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Captain Flint/John Silver/Madi - Freeform, Episode Related, F/M, Flint's Mind Wanders, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Silver/Madi, spoilers for 4x4 and 4x5 maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9984371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vowelinthug/pseuds/vowelinthug
Summary: me: i don't think i'm gonna write anymore fics set during season 4also me: i bet flint had time to jerk off while held captive by eleanor





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from divinyls's "i touch myself"  
> yes i went there

Flint felt a little guilty at first, when he realized being Eleanor’s captive meant being left alone in peace and quiet for days. He couldn't remember the last time he’d been allowed to sleep long, to sit in contemplation, to taste the food in his mouth. The first night, Eleanor took him to a cell, any trace of her old fondness extinguished in the dark of the fort, and as soon as his head hit his cot, he’d been out cold.

Eleanor came to wake him the next day, and when he’d asked, she'd told him he slept almost twelve hours. He couldn't remember ever doing that voluntarily, without a drink or a blow to the head leading the way.

He felt guilty about sitting around the dungeons, knowing his men, knowing Silver and Madi were out there, still trying to fight a war. He felt guilty not being able to see how they were, to assuage any doubts about his plan, to make sure they were kept safe. At first he felt regretful, and powerless, and then he felt sleepy again, and when he next awoke, he decided he could trust Silver not to do anything too stupid to fuck up Flint’s attempt at saving his life.

The second day, Eleanor had dropped off a couple books to occupy him, which he appreciated. One of them was a copy of Rogers’s book, which he did not. Although he did find some comfort in knowing Eleanor could still be the cunning bitch he’d befriended in the first place. He read it through once, made a note of several errors, both factual and grammatical. He tried to discuss the many faults with Eleanor the next time he saw her, but she did not appreciate that either.

So he rested, which he needed, and he read, which he enjoyed, and he pointedly did not feel guilty about any of it. Despite what _everyone_ thought, Flint did not see himself as a God. He was not responsible for the actions of every man. They could survive without him.

Flint only wished he’d had time to _talk_ to Silver before giving himself over to Eleanor.  The look in his eyes, the fearsomeness and the panic, the incomprehension -- it had been enough to almost send Flint flying back through the gate. He could believe Silver would trust him if given an hour or so to explain himself, Silver with that uncontrollable need to argue everything with him and analyze all the possible outcomes. Simply asking Silver to trust him was an exercise in faith for the both of them.

But he’d been allowed no visitors yet, so he told himself to relax, and worked hard to do so. He’d been lying down on his cot reading when the light began to fade from the window, and his single candle burned too low to give off enough light to see by without straining his eyes. He placed the book on the ground, his foot dangling over the edge of the bed, and without anything else to do, quietly let his mind wander.

It took Flint a moment to realize he was slightly hard.

He looked down at his crotch in mild confusion. To be fair to himself, though, the last time this happened without necessary encouragement was probably around the same time he slept longer than two hours in a row.

He glanced at the locked door. It only ever opened for food or if Eleanor needed something. He had no idea what the time was beyond the setting sun, but he’d already eaten, and likely no one would disturb him for a while, unless something catastrophic happened in Nassau. Did he really want to do this, though?

He ran his palm slowly over his crotch, and a hard shudder ran through his whole body. He did want to do this. Who know when he might have another opportunity.

With one last look at the door, he undid his buttons and shimmied his trousers down a little, just enough to slide a hand comfortably inside.

He exhales, his cock warm and half-hard in his hand. He didn’t do anything yet, just held himself loosely, feeling the weight, the smoothness of the skin, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His mind didn’t land on any particular thing. He was a little embarrassed to realize he might be out of practice with this. He couldn’t remember how to start. He glanced around the room for inspiration -- the dark square of window, the empty plates, the sputtering candle.

Unbidden, he recalled Silver’s face the last time he saw him, illuminated by the torches -- the flames reflected in his burning blue eyes, the blood still splattered on his temple. It was a look he’d seen many times before, and if they’d been alone Flint would have gotten a long and detailed earful about how fucking _stupid_ this was. But Silver knew better than anyone the importance of appearances, so he’d voiced his displeasure as quickly as possible: the twitch in his jaw, the clench of his fist around his crutch, the way his emphatic, rage-filled “ _No”_ wrapped itself around Flint’s throat like a pair of hands.

His breath hitched, his hand tightening around his cock unconsciously, thinking about that voice in his ear. He wondered if Madi had been able to calm him down, if she’d returned from the Underhill Plantation safely. He didn’t know how she’d feel about this plan, but he suspected she might understand it. He could at least trust her to stop Silver from doing his own stupid and drastic thing.

Thinking about Silver and Madi normally made a hollow ache form in his stomach, but with a hand around his cock, that pain didn’t appear. They were a strange pair, to be sure. They were very careful not to be affectionate in public, which Flint thought had to do with a combination of her reserved nature and his newfound appointment as lethal Pirate King. This was not a time for either of them to look capable of soft touches. But Flint had seen it a few times, stumbling in on them pressed close in empty corridors of the Walrus. When they’d clung to each other openly after being reunited, he thought that might have been the first time they’d ever kissed in daylight.

If Madi had met the John Silver that Flint had first met, she likely would have eaten him alive. She carried such a presence about her, a control that he’d never seen slip, and Flint thought it likely that would be the same in the bedroom as well.

He released his cock and licked his palm, picturing Madi taking care of Silver with a kind but firm hand. Flint lifted his shirt up to his armpits, suddenly overheated, running his fingers down his chest and over his stomach before grabbing himself again with his wet hand. Silver, despite all his changes, still talked too much for his own good, and Madi appreciated silence, and Flint could easily see her, straddling his face in an enthusiastic attempt to quiet him.

Flint stroked his cock evenly, his eyes closed tight, seeing Madi over Silver, knees bracketing his ears. She’d bow over him, clutching his hair as she rode his face. Silver’s tongue -- that evil, infamous, perpetual tongue -- working like mad, plunging into her cunt, sucking on the folds loudly and messily. His face would be red from the lack of air, shining with his own spit and Madi’s wetness, and his eyes would be glazed and lost, gazing up at her as she moaned over him, bucking wildly. He’d moan back into her, not even able to keep completely quiet this way, his beard rubbing the inside of her thighs, his hands running up and down her back, keeping her steady so he can taste all of her. Silver would look so _good_ with his mouth full, with his eyes full of worship.

Running his thumb over his wet head, fingertip dragging under the hood, Flint couldn’t help but be reminded of Miranda, and once again it didn’t bring the pain it usually did. She and Madi were so alike in a lot of ways, their calm and keen intelligence. Miranda had been such a teacher to Flint, showing him, among other things, all the ways to properly suck cock and love it. He could see himself on his knees beside Madi, the two of them working to render Silver apart. Shoulder to shoulder, between Silver’s widely spread legs, Flint could see himself sucking Silver’s balls into his mouth while Madi kissed up his Silver’s length. Madi would have a hand on his elbow and Silver would have a hand on his head, both eager to keep Flint close and with them.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Flint groaned quietly, pinching a nipple as he imagined Madi sliding up to kiss a blissed-out Silver. He stroked himself harder, his cock wet with pre-cum and so hot in his hand. Madi would reach for Flint’s face, slide a thumb over his cheek and press down, keeping his jaw open and his head in place so Silver could fuck his mouth.

Flint brought his free hand up to his mouth, sucked on two fingers in an effort to muffle his moans, to better imagine that heady weight of a cock sliding across his tongue. He saw Silver breaking away from Madi’s lips to watch himself slide in and out of Flint’s mouth in short, sharp bursts. His hand would join Madi’s on the back of Flint’s head, holding him steady and open, every one of Flint’s choked moan sending vibrations all the way through Silver. Flint could see Silver’s pink mouth gasping, his eyes as blazing as they’d been the last time Flint saw them in real life.

Flint’s own hips rose as he worked his cock, sucking hard on his fingers, desperate for the taste of Silver in his mouth. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss Silver in daylight, too. He saw it in his mind, just the two of them alone on the quarterdeck of the _Walrus_. He could feel the unforgiving wood on his back, an afternoon sun beating down on their naked bodies as Silver kissed him hard, clutching his face and sucking on his tongue.

He took his fingers out of his mouth and touched his chest again, imagining Silver pausing from where he’d be fucking Flint to lean down and bite his nipple, sucking one and then the other, his beard rubbing perfectly over his flushed and fevered skin. He’d be so _red_ because of Silver, every part of him aching in different ways for him.

He wished he could get some fingers working inside himself, but Flint thought he was pushing his luck already as it was and didn’t want to risk it. But _oh_ , _Christ_ , he could imagine the stretch of Silver’s cock gliding inside him. Silver wouldn’t ever be consistent with his thrusts -- one moment he’d be fast and frantic, pounding into Flint so desperately that neither of them could breathe properly, every hitched moan enveloped by another one. The next minute, he’d stop, he’d slow, adjusting Flint’s legs in his hands to spread him wider, and his movements would become deliberate and pointed, grinding into Flint so thoroughly, with such precise intent that Flint wouldn’t be able to _see_ properly, his head thrown back against the deck, the white of the sails overhead and the brilliant sun and the full weight of Silver resting on him as he kissed Flint again -- all of it covering Flint from head to toe and blinding him with such consuming bliss it would be like lying in the white hot center of an open flame.

Fuck it. Flint shifted his pants lower quickly, just enough to spread his legs a little wider and press a single finger at his opening. His wrist brushed against his balls as he worked just the tip inside. His other hand didn’t slow down on his cock any, but just that single digit pushing into him was enough to release a long moan from his lips that he hoped wasn’t audible to any guards standing outside. He panted heavily, his eyes cracking open to watch his hand fly over his cock, picturing Silver touching him in sunlight. He saw Silver’s deft, tanned hand stroking him skillfully, because he’d always been an expert in knowing exactly how to render Flint apart. And all the while, his hips would be moving in an even rhythm, and he’d be whispering in Flint’s ear, letting his groans strike Flint like an epiphany. And instead of the last thing Flint had heard him say days ago, all Silver would be saying now was, “Yes, Captain, yes, _yes_.”

And then Flint was coming, both in his imagination and in real life, spilling all over his heaving abdomen in thick ropes. His back arched off the cot, his moan stuttered and choked where he tried to quiet himself by biting his lip. He felt overheated, his whole body shaking as he came back down to himself. He closed his eyes again, eager to lie in the sunshine of his mind for just a moment longer.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes to look down at himself. His hand still gripped his cock gently, the finger no longer in his ass but resting on his bare thigh. His chest and stomach were covered in come and spit and sweat, cooling his warmed skin in the evening air. He didn’t have anything to clean himself with, so he licked his hand clean and used some torn pages from Rogers’s book to wipe the rest of himself off.

Once again, his mind felt altogether calm. He was more tired than he’d been before, but relaxed in a way that had been missing in the days since he’d been held at the fort. And also, suddenly, he felt an eagerness for this peace here to be over. An urge to get back outside, for this all to be finally finished. He decided then, if he ever did see daylight again, he’d kiss Silver. Just to see what might happen.

All in all, Flint had definitely spent worse times in prison.

  
  
  



End file.
